Wing Men
by hollow echos
Summary: Being sidelined with an injury is the worst feeling for any member of the team. Frustration and pain are coupled with the physical recovery. McKay learns this lesson firsthand and his teammates are there to help him, they will be his wing men.
1. It'll Bite You Later On

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**Author's note** – This is my second SGA fic (the other one still in the works if you want to check that out as well!). I like writing adventure fics with hurt/comfort, but at the same time, between what the show covers and the type of fics that are normally written, and yes, the fics I write, I feel like recovery times are often tightly compressed. We skip the three weeks of boredom while someone is hurt and then recovering and jump right to the bit where they are ready to jump back in the saddle; I am guilty of this too. But I wanted to maybe explore this, and this story is the result of this idea. I am hoping to turn this fic into a long-term study of what goes on in that window of time, the recovery period where our favorite characters are hurting, wanting to get back to work, but not quite there. This story should chronicle the frustrations of being on the sideline and the friends that are there to help in one Rodney McKay's time of need, they will be his wingmen.

**Wingmen **

**Prologue**

**Five Years Ago**

"So you're clearing me then?" Rodney asked as he sat on the edge of the medial be in the military hospital, swinging his legs back and forth as he looked up at the Scottish physician with an anxious expression.

"Aye, against my better judgment. Ye should really take another week off, ease back into things around here. But yer superiors seem to be of the mind that no headway will be made on that Zed-PM they think they might be on the trail of in your absence."

McKay let out a sigh of relief. "Thank the lord for stuffy military men. I swear they only get every third word I speak to them. Must have finally sunk in through their thick skulls that I am the most vital scientist they have up here."

"Heh, ever pause to maybe consider they only caught every third word because ye speak a hundred words in one breath? Can't blame them for not being able to keep up with ye."

"Oh, har, har, har, let's go three rounds of heckle the scientist. I'm good to go though?"

"I can't understand yer desire to get back to that frozen cave they call a base. Ye should take a visit back to the States, visit yer family, then come back in a week and start back in again. Yer shoulder's not ready for the abuse I know yer about to force it through."

"Carson, I was in this hospital for three weeks, then not working for another three because of your illegitimate claims that I would overwork myself. That's six weeks of nothing but fielding questions from the scientists by e-mail and typing with one hand and watching TV reruns on the three channels you guys have here. Cable my ass. I've rested plenty."

The Scottish man flipped through his patient's chart one more time, trying to find any reason to be able to put off his return to overworking himself for one more week. "We've talked about the fact that ye should have the surgery to stabilize that shoulder before ye go back to work. According to yer patient history this is your second dislocation of that shoulder?"

Mckay rolled his eyes, "I was twenty when it happened last time, working on my PHD, as the youngest person in the graduate program if I might be so bold as to boast a bit. A couple of buddies and I were working on a physics experiment, and a rope got wrapped around my wrist right as it was getting pulled taut by a system of pulleys. The shoulder got yanked out of the socket, so yeah. But it healed just fine then just like it healed fine now well enough for me to go back to work."

Beckett sighed; there really was no reasoning with any of the lab types sometimes. Seemed like a bit of fresh air did something funny to their heads, all they wanted to do was rush back to their hole and bury themselves in whatever project real life had dragged them away from. "Rodney, I know ye want to go back, and I know there are grey haired geezers sitting in leather chairs in some stuffy office pushing for you to get back on their defense work, but this is yer health we're talking here. It's standard medical protocol have an orthopedic surgeon perform a stabilization after the second dislocation on a shoulder, tighten the muscles around the joint-"

"Look, you've tried to push this surgery on me twice already, three times if you count this conversation. My shoulder is one hundred percent! Look," Mckay said defiantly as he raised his arm away from his side where it had remained motionless until this point. He slowly raised it out in front of him and rotated his arm, flipping his palm from facing the ground to facing the ceiling. "The physical therapist said that was major progress. I couldn't move my arm away from my body at all a month ago. It's fine to be put to work typing on a computer."

A muscle in his bicep twitched harshly, Rodney's face curling into a grimace as he dropped the arm back into his lap and rubbed as his upper arm gently with his other hand.

"Aye, fine indeed," Carson said without concealing the sarcasm in his voice. "Without the surgery yer going to be more prone to dislocations in the future, it's not worth whatever project ye have waiting back in the lab. And that pain right now? That's yer body telling ye it's not ready to go back to the abuse cycle ye put it through on a regular basis. I'm not clearing ye for duty."

"Carson! It's been six weeks; I'm going crazy with boredom!"

"Rodney, one more week will do ye some good. Work through your physical therapy, go stateside for a few days perhaps and I'll have ye back here in a week for another exam."

"I'm sick of exams! I'm sick of the physical therapy and the pain that keeps me from sleeping afterwards, and I am tired of feeling useless!" Rodney finished with an exasperated sigh.

"Rodney, I know it's been a long recovery. Ye've done well up to here but I won't have ye jeopardizing all that."

Rodney frowned deeply at this and then stuck his chin up defiantly; he already had his packed bag waiting out in the military jeep outside with a soldier waiting to drive him the airport. No way one belligerent, argumentative, Scottish physician with a superiority complex was going to get in the way of that. "Besides, you said the higher-ups wanted me back up there, that means something big is going on. They trump even the mighty Dr. Beckett."

"Aye, we'll be seeing to that too," he said, rising from his stool and walking to the door, "ye stay right there with that stubborn attitude of yours and stew for a few minutes while I go make a phone call to yer buddies and have a chat about military chains of command screwing around with my medical decisions."

He stepped outside and shut the door behind him, leaving the scientist stare at the blank walls. He heard the raising of voices out in the hallway, a few curse words in another language, more angry arguing in a Scottish accent, and a few minutes Beckett reentered the room with a dangerously angry expression on his face.

"I have my walking orders I assume from the glowing expression on your face?" Rodney asked with a cocky smirk. That expression had only one interpretation, Beckett had finally been put in his place and told to rein in his protective streak.

"Quit while yer ahead Rodney, yer not out of here yet. General Carlson seems to be of the opinion that there are pertinent matters back at the Antarctic base that require your attention," Beckett muttered under his breath as he yanked a fountain pen from his white lab coat pocket and aggressively scribbled his signature across the release document.

"That's it then, I can go?" Rodney asked, pushing himself off the exam bed and stretching.

"As ye've already said, it seems the matter's been taken out of my hands. But Rodney, I'll reiterate one more time take it easy on that shoulder of yers, and skipping this surgery, it's a mistake that'll most likely come back to bite ye later on."

"Alright, alright. I've heard your medical opinion, I'll take it easy and be fine," he snapped as he snatched the document out of the doctor's hands and skidded out of the exam room, slamming the door behind him.

Carson sat down on his stool and began filling out the discharge notice in Rodney's chart. "Scientists, I swear they'll be the cause of an early trip to the grave. Stubborn scientists the lot of them."

**Present Day**

"_Rodney! Are you ok? You called me but you're not answering now. I'm giving you another fifteen seconds until I come to find you myself!"_ The voice of John Sheppard reverberated from the radio through Rodney's ear.

Rodney's attention was focused on his misshapen shoulder as he carefully reached a hand over his shoulder to feel for an injury. The joint felt wrong, his arm was numb; his shoulder blade was sticking out at a funny angle. Fuck. He shouldn't have tried to grab for the railing when he went over the edge. Look where he was now.

Between pained gasps he tapped his radio, Sheppard was just paranoid to come after him if he didn't answer in the stated fifteen second window, "I'm fine Sheppard…I'm ok. Call off the search party lassie; I'll be home by dinner."

"_Rodney! What's going on? I heard a scream and then the line went dead, where are you, I'm on my way to the nearest transporter to head out your way_."

"Sheppard! I'm fine. I just got spooked for a second. I thought I got locked in this room, claustrophobia and all, the lights aren't working well, I'm working by flashlight. I thought I needed your gene to help me get the door open but I played with the wires on the console and got the doors to retract."

"_Then you're on your way back? Scientists are supposed to work in teams, always, and shouldn't be out in the city exploring without a military escort. That was your rule McKay, remember?"_

"No I didn't forget! Zelenka was going to come with me, but he got called away to go run through some calculations that one of our teams are working on to increase the efficiency of our Naqueda generator set-up. I didn't plan it this way."

"_McKay, whatever circumstances resulted in you being out there alone, fine, it happened. Now we play by the rules. Either you come back in or I'm coming out to join you. No one goes out exploring or working in the city alone, you included."_

God, he just needed to get Sheppard off his back for five minutes so he could assess the damage and decide whether he could manage this on his own, "I'm putting this console back together; I'm not leaving all the wires exposed like this. I'll be back in thirty minutes tops. If I'm not I give you full permission to come harass me in person."

"_Fine, thirty minutes. And that means half an hour McKay, not three hours. I know how time somehow seems to disappear when you're working on something."_

"Fine, ok, I need to concentrate, McKay out," Rodney finished as he switched his radio off with his one functional hand.

Alright, damage assessment time. He was currently sitting one floor down from where he had been working. He'd tripped and gone over the railing and grabbed to stop his fall. He'd managed to do just that, with his right hand snagging the railing and jerking him to a halt. That force had also pulled his shoulder out of his socket, immediately making the arm go numb, forcing his grip to release, and he had dropped the final five feet to the unforgiving ground where he was currently laying.

He knew that distinct feeling, the sharp pain, then numbness, this made a third dislocation. He also knew what it meant if Beckett had his say, the words echoed in his head every time his shoulder got a little sore, the surgery he should've had five years ago, and the one that Beckett would try to pin him with now if he got wind of this. No, he could do this; he was a genius after all. Better to let the sheep herder tend to the rest of his flock in the infirmary, Rodney could take care of this on his own and get back to work without anyone being the wiser.

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	2. Pinned

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**Wing Men **

Chapter 2 – Pinned

With a groan Rodney rolled over onto his side and then pushed himself up onto his knees and then to his feet, the injured appendage tucked protectively against his chest. Finally able to survey his surroundings, he took a look around to see what was available to him. He was on the lower level of the lab, there were a few dusty control panels scattered about the room at random intervals. It looked like there might at one time have been a functioning stairwell back to the upper level but a beam from the ceiling had rusted through at one end and fallen, cleaving the support structure of the stairs into two pieces, one resting on the floor, the part still attached to the upper deck hanging six feet in the air.

"Ok Mckay, so the only way out of here has been blocked," Rodney said to the empty room. Ok, so maybe when he was younger the whole thinking out loud bit had gotten him in trouble with some teachers when he accidently murmured that just because they couldn't follow his logic didn't make him wrong, it made them slow…God, the pain was getting his thoughts off in random directions. "Ok, focus McKay. How are we going to get out from down here and then fix this stupid arm of yours?"

He rubbed the sweat away that had begun to bead on his forehead. Throbbing shoulder pain didn't exactly contribute to putting him in his best problem-solving mindset. He spun in an awkward circle eying anything that could help him out of here. He had thirty minutes, after that, Sheppard would be after him again and he wouldn't buy some stupid excuse a second time. No, the same stubborn refusal to rest until he had his people back where he could keep an eye on them was good in most circumstances, like when his big mouth got him into sticky hostage situations with the natives. But it really sucked when the man dragged him away from his work at four in the morning for some enforced sleep, or now. "Alright, enough reminiscing, let's focus," he said to himself again, swiping a quick glance at his watch, "Glorious McKay, twenty-seven minutes to get out of here and fix your arm and then get back to the control room."

His head continued to swivel around as he examined anything that might be useful in this situation until his eyes locked onto a chair that was resting overturned by one of the panels. Whoever had been in here last had certainly failed to leave it in orderly condition. He crossed the room, dragging the chair over and setting it upright just below the suspended stairs. He bent over, squinting as he examined the chair for any signs of rust or disrepair. Not that he found any, the Ancients did have a knack for building technology that lasted for thousands of years and their furniture wasn't any different. But still, last thing he needed was another fall onto that shoulder, yeah, that would help him get back to the city faster. Didn't hurt to be careful.

Having decided that the chair would hold his weight, he climbed up on it, holding his arm out to stabilize himself on the bottom of the stairs dangling in the air. The chair gave him enough height that he could climb up onto them with little difficulty. He gave a silent prayer for small miracles; he didn't think he could have hauled all his weight up with one arm if he was still too low. He quickly climbed the stairs to the level he had started at, his footsteps echoing on the metal stairs as they vibrated with his footfalls.

Having hatched a plan to try to get his shoulder fixed he grabbed his laptop off the console he had been working at and carried it over to the door. After a few seconds with playing with the latches on the control panel he finally got it popped open and let the metal cover drop to the floor, exposing the wires he needed to access to get this to work. He had picked up his pace a bit, Rodney had assumed that the initial numbness had been a byproduct of the shock the shoulder had sustained, but he still couldn't feel anything lower than the elbow in that arm, this was not something he had remembered experiencing last time he had suffered a shoulder dislocation and it was making him nervous.

He split his attention between prodding different crystals and clumsily typing one handed on his computer, his hand a little shaky as he went. His shoulder muscles kept twitching and he had to screw his jaw tight to keep from letting out a choked cry, he needed to get this taken care of now. He eventually coaxed the doors into cooperating, commanding them to retract and stay open until he entered the key sequence to reverse the process.

Ok, time to grow a pair as Sheppard was always telling him. It was this or a trip to see Beckett and take an extended vacation until he could pry himself from the good doctor's finicky grasp.

He stopped midway through the door and gently pressed himself up against the side of the doorframe away from where the door was retracted. He positioned his shoulder so that it was lined up with the track of the door on the floor and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths before he cut off again, another twitch starting in that arm and pain rippled down his spine. Before he could talk himself out of this he entered the key sequence and quickly braced himself on the doorframe and screwing his eyes shut. He heard the hiss of the door reactivating before something hard, steel, and unforgiving slammed into his shoulder like a freight train. Something in his shoulder shifted as the air left his lungs, any rational thought abandoned his mind, and the only thing left was pain, cold, and piercing. His legs went weak beneath him but he remained suspended like a butterfly that someone had pinned by its wings into place.

A few muted whimpers emanated into the room and he clawed at the steel door, begging it to open. Oh god, get it open! He tried to push off against the doorframe to loosen the vice grip on his shoulder but the door didn't budge. Stupid! The pain was making him stupid. These doors were made to withstand the onslaught of heavy gunfire or thousands of pounds of pressure from a flood. Of course he wasn't going to get it open this way. He looked down to where his laptop had clattered to the floor. No way could he reach it with his hands. All he needed was the enter key, fuck it. He raised a foot and put it down on the keyboard harshly. There was another hiss and the door quickly retreated into its hidden recess, leaving the scientist free to crumple to the ground next to his discarded computer.

He laid there for a few minutes not doing anything but trying to regain his composure. He felt a trail of moisture down his face. God, tears? Sheppard would have a field day with this if he were here. Not that they weren't unwarranted. The whole right side of his body ached and the shoulder burned. He looked down at his hand, his fingers weakly twitching as he commanded them to move. The numbness was a little better and he had some movement in the arm, it was better than it had been, whatever residual damage that had been caused should heal up as long as he took it easy on that arm for a week or two maybe. He reached across his body with his good hand to run his fingertips over the shoulder blade. It didn't feel deformed anymore; the door must have done the job. He could already feel bruises forming and swelling moving in all around the joint in protest. It could've been worse, he thought, it could've been a surgery.

He begrudgingly climbed to his feet and went to snatch up his computer…Or what was left of it. There was a boot-shaped dent on the keyboard and several of the keys had been driven downward and stayed there. It looked like about a third of the alphabet was currently incapacitated…Whatever. It was a loaner anyways. One of the junkers that served as a loaner to teams going out into the city. There seemed to be a very high mortality rate for any technology that was taken out on those explorations. Explosions, water damage, one had even been chucked against the wall by one of his more hot-headed underlings in frustration. One more computer to scrap for parts, worth the sacrifice to avoid Beckett for this, so very worth it, he thought as he remembered the six weeks of hell he'd suffered the last time this had happened.

Just then his radio chirped, "_McKay, you're thirty minutes are up. I want to know where you are._"

He sighed and scrubbed at his face and glanced at his watch. "It's been twenty-six minutes Sheppard. You're four minutes early for your worrying fit. I'm almost to the transporter."

"_You're done with whatever you were working on and _physically _moving back toward the control roo_m?"

"I don't have time to stop by for a social call right now; I have data to input into our servers to back it up. I found some interesting stuff in this lab we found last week. But yes, I am three minutes from the transporter," he finished, he was lucky the lab had been positioned so close to the transporter. He could be there very quickly.

"_Fine, go to your lab. But I'm having Zelenka call me if you don't show up. You should never have been out in the city on your own to begin with."_

McKay shook his head as he scooped up the remains of the computer, "Thank you mother. Are we done?"

"Fine, fine. Don't blame me when you get stuck somewhere or lost and don't have someone to bail you out. It's not like you've accidently gotten stuck in an Ancient bathroom before."

"That was once! And I was exploring looking for any useful technology!"

"Of course, nothing compares to the Ancient version of a toilet. Such a marvel," Sheppard jived at him, a hint of subdued laughter in his voice.

"Enough. Goodbye Sheppard!" Rodney severed the connection and exited the lab, he just wanted to show his face in the lab so Zelenka could report to Sheppard and then he wanted to go take several aspirin, and snag a hot shower and twelve hours to hopefully sleep off the worse of this pain.

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	3. Like a Grapefruit

Author's note – To all my readers, I hope you enjoy the latest chapter. Please feel inclined to leave me a response, flame, squees, whatever you would like. Reviews are food for starving fan-fic writers!

I've also had concerns about me abandoning my other in-progress fic, "After the Storm." I promise that I will be returning to that one very shortly, probably by Friday. I hit a bit of stumbling block on where I wanted to take that story but I think I have it worked out where to take it from here. If you haven't read that one either, I'll throw in a personal plug, it's also a Rodney whump fic! Either way, I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

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**Wing Men **

Chapter 3 – Like a Grapefruit

Rodney groaned and opened his eyes, blinking a few times and yawning once before cracking his neck a few times. He'd piled his pillows up against the headboard to allow him to sleep partially reclined, a position he had found to let him at least get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep when he'd dealt with this the last time.

He sat up and looked over at the window. The sun was up, so maybe he was a little late getting out of bed today. But he wasn't going off world and the lab could usually run itself for a few hours first thing in the morning. He had needed the few extra hours. Sleep hadn't been forthcoming last night, the aspirin had done nothing and the shower had eluded him. He hadn't even gotten to the fully undressed phase, every attempt to slowly wriggle out of his shirt had ended in curses and sharp spikes of pain lancing through his shoulder. The fourth attempt had found him resigned to sleeping in his uniform and figuring it out later on, which wasn't going to be this morning either.

The uniform would have to go another day at least; he wasn't in any mood to put his shoulder through that sort of abuse again. He wrestled with the zipper on a clean pair of pants and the laces on his shoes before grabbing his laptop and radio and making his way to the mess for his morning daily dose of caffeine in the form of two, maybe three cups of coffee. It had been a long night and he was feeling more lethargic than usual.

A quick jaunt through the hallways had seen him passing a few soldiers, failing to return the wave of a rookie scientist recently arrived from earth, until he finally arrived at mess. He'd snagged his coffee and a plate of some brown sludge that the cooks were trying to pass as an acceptable oatmeal substitute before plopping his tray down at an empty table and slowly sitting down.

He was three bites into his meal before a voice interrupted him, "McKay, you're sitting like you have a piece of wood strapped to your back. A little stiff today?"

McKay rolled his eyes and looked up as John dropped his own tray on the table and slouched down in the chair. "Sure, we'll go with that. What has you so chipper this morning?"

"Teyla is taking us to P6-80."

"Planet where the villagers were so kind as to build their circle of huts seven miles from the gate? If I recall we had the extreme displeasure of making the trip there during a monsoon."

"Yeah, that's the one! I hear the rainy season's over though, so hopefully we won't be coming back quite as water logged," Sheppard mumbled between forkfuls of food.

"I think I'm still going to pass. As much as I'm normally up for a romp through the woods I told Zelenka he would be going with you guys today, he needs more field experience and he hasn't had the misfortune of visiting that particular planet yet."

"I know he was going to go, but he's out sick today. He's down with Beckett puking his guts up, which puts you back on the roster. Besides, you're always telling us that he's not on your level of genius. We want the smartest scientist on our team to work a way out of the snafus we inevitably seem to attract," Sheppard said, slapping a hand onto McKay's left shoulder.

Rodney flinched harshly and silently thanked that Sheppard hadn't been sitting on his other side in proximity to his injured appendage.

"Whoa, easy bud. You seem a little tense this morning. Everything ok?"

"I'm fine. Not all of us are as awake and energetic as you first thing in the morning. I'll assign another scientist to go with you guys, there's work I need to do here today," Rodney said. In reality, no way was he going off world with his injury, it was likely to be a liability in almost any even slightly dangerous situation. Plus last thing he needed was Sheppard analyzing his every movement. His tendency to avoid using that arm would not go unnoticed by the major.

"No can do Mckay. You're work will have to wait. We think they might have some ancient tech there, they mentioned some large, metal structure where they hold religious ceremonies. Teyla milked them for information about it, apparently it's been there for many generations and they don't know how it got there."

"But-"

"Mckay. I hear potential Ancient technology and my mind goes to you. You're our resident specialist with this stuff, so grab your gear and meet us in the gate room; we're heading out in twenty minutes." Sheppard downed the last of his orange juice in two swallows, picked up his tray, and was gone to go prepare for the mission before McKay was able to put another word in.

"Guess I'm going off world after all," he grumbled to no one in particular. Having suddenly lost his appetite he disposed of his own tray and went to his lab to collect what gear he would need.

Fifteen minutes later found him in the gate room with a small pack slung over one shoulder. Ronon, Teyla, Sheppard, and another soldier he didn't recognize were standing around chatting. Well everyone but Ronon was chatting. The big man was sitting on the stairs playing with the settings on his gun. Typical Ronon, Mckay thought as he approached the gang.

"Where's the giant pack McKay? Usually it takes two of us to carry all your gear," Sheppard said slightly surprised.

"I took your complaints to heart. I have what I need to examine this supposed Ancient structure. Let's go."

Sheppard threw a few words up to the gate team who responded by dialed the planet. Ronon climbed to his feet, everyone checked their guns and their gear and they stepped through the gate.

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"Well that was a productive waste of an afternoon," McKay grumbled as they stopped. He'd been pestering them for a break for the better part of half an hour now; he didn't run five miles every day like all of the others did. He exercised his mind, not his body. There wasn't enough time in the day to do both, not surrounded by a city full of technology hundreds of years ahead of their own. Every day brought new amazing discoveries.

"How were we supposed to know that it was just a bunker? It could've been Ancient for all we know, you're just mad because there weren't any goodies for you to tinker with," Sheppard said as he watched Rodney hunch over to catch his breath. John unclipped the water bottle from his belt and passed it over. "Here, take some of this, you're looking a little red in the face, it's hot out here today."

Rodney let out a small chuckle at that as he took the offered water. He'd finished his off a mile or so back, "Monsoons in the rainy season and an oven during their summer. Can't say I'll be sad to leave this place."

"True enough, McKay, can't argue with that assessment," Sheppard said as he rolled up the sleeves on his jacket.

"Sheppard!" someone shouted from the woods as there was a rustling of bushes in front of them. Ronon was on his feet with gun in hand before McKay had a chance to register what was going on.

An out of breath Teyla emerged from the thicket, "Collins…he…he collapsed."

All sense of easy vanished as Sheppard's shoulders tensed, the smile disappeared and he was all business, "What happened?"

"We were scouting ahead like you said. He was walking and talking one minute and down the next. I checked his pulse and breathing and both were fine, but he wasn't sweating. I believe he might have the condition Dr. Beckett calls 'heatstroke.'"

"Speaking of the oven like conditions I suppose, ok, how far did you leave him from here?"

"Maybe a three minute run?"

"Ok, let's go then. I'll see if we can't rouse him and get some water down his throat. If he's collapsed it's more than just a mild case."

There was a murmur of agreement and they were off again, McKay bringing up the rear as he loudly stumbled between trees with his one arm up to prevent branches from whipping him in the face. By the time he caught up the group they were huddled around a still unconscious Collins. They had stripped him of his pack and jacket and Sheppard was dumping the remaining contents of his canteen over the soldier's head.

When the action failed to rouse any reaction from the man Sheppard shook him a few times, peeled back his eyelids, and then shook his head. "Still no response. Let's get him back to base then. McKay, you get his pack. Ronon and I will carry him and Teyla will scout ahead."

McKay's eyes widened at this, he had specifically packed just his computer so that there wouldn't be any strain on his shoulder. He looked down at the twenty-plus pound pack that lay discarded to the side.

"I can't, it's too heavy!"

"McKay! Collins has heatstroke; we all have a role to play in getting him to through the gate and to the medical team. Yours is carrying his pack. There is equipment we need in there that can't be left here just because you want to spare your back!"

Rodney nervously ran his hand over the arm tucked protectively up against his body and took a few steps back, "I-I can't…" he said, turning his gaze away from a very pissed of Sheppard.

While he was distracted he heard footsteps come up behind him, a grunt, and before he could protest a rough hand wrapped around his right arm and shoved it through the strap of the heavy pack, quickly doing the same with his other arm. As Ronon released his grip on the pack and it fell on Rodney's shoulders the world went red.

"AHHHH! Fuck, get it off! NOW!" His voice suddenly cut off and he whimpered a few times as he tried to get the weight off his shoulder. God. Oh god, no he couldn't do this. His hands were shaking and he couldn't get them to grip the straps that were tightly digging into his shoulders. He ignored his bewildered bunch who were now focusing their attention on his sudden outburst in confusion.

Not understanding what was going on but recognizing a pained distress when he saw one, Ronon snatched the knife from his belt and quickly sawed through the straps on the pack. It fell to the ground and McKay soon sunk to the ground in a similar manner, running a quivering hand over the shoulder and whimpering.

Sheppard was on his feet and crouching next to Rodney before Rodney's blurred vision was clearing. Next thing he saw was Sheppard staring down at him with a very concerned expression, "McKay, what's wrong? Where are you hurt?"

It wasn't an 'are you hurt,' Sheppard knew McKay well enough and had been the one to drag his bleeding body back to Carson to know when something was seriously wrong.

When McKay didn't offer up an explanation Sheppard's face dipped into a frown and he watched the way his friend was clutching at his right shoulder. He opened his mouth to inquire again but McKay cut him off.

"I…I told you that pack was too fucking heavy," he said as he tried to roll away from Sheppard as the man reached to peel away the arm McKay had tightly clutched around that shoulder still, he hadn't released it at all since falling to the ground.

"McKay, your shoulder hurt? That's the one you hurt a few years back up in Antarctica, isn't it?

"Really? You think? Yeah it hurts, although I thought you might have guessed that from the way that I was screaming."

By this point Ronon had come over to help with the argumentative man, although his approach was a little less subtle, he rolled Mckay over onto his back while Sheppard pried away the hand he was using to protectively grip the arm.

"Let up! I am not a piece of luggage for the two of you to manhandle. And Ronon, you could back up a bit, your rough handling started all this," he finished as he sat up and began trying to shake off the major. Sheppard was having none of it, he began gently running a hand over McKay's shoulder, not failing to register the wince that went over the scientist's face the moment he began his ministrations.

"Christ McKay, your shoulder is swollen up like a grapefruit. This isn't just your shoulder acting up, you had to have injured this very recently, what happened?"

"I'm fine, and if you would be so kind as to stop aggravating it, the pain would be a lot better!"

"Mckay, that's enough. Your bullshit isn't going to work on us, we've been well-seasoned in it and it became ineffective a long time ago. To have this level it had to have happened when, yesterday? Not while we were out here, now that I think of it you weren't typing with that hand…McKay…you came out here with an injury? You have any idea what sort of danger you were putting yourself in with that stupid thought?!?"

"If I may so kindly remind you I was perfectly content staying in the city, I was sending Zelenka. You were the one who dragged me out here and then Ronon assaulted me!"

Sheppard opened his mouth to make an angry retort, how could McKay have thought this was ok? He should've gone down to see Beckett and he certainly should have told him, he was the team leader for god's sake! That should have been a no brainer.

Unfortunately before all of this could come out in an angry tirade Teyla interrupted from where she was sitting with Collins. "Both of you, can you put your argument aside for a moment? What happened to getting Collins back to the medical team, and now it seems it is also pertinent that we get McKay there as well."

Sheppard rubbed at the back of his head, looking a little ashamed for his outburst all of a sudden. McKay was still tensed in a defensive posture and he was looking out into the woods away from everyone.

Sheppard was the one to break the momentary silence. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry. Can you get Collin's pack? Ronon, can you…"

Ronon was already picking Collins up in his arms and rising to his feet. Sheppard finished his thought, "Yeah, that…you can handle him?"

Ronon rolled his eyes, "I'm fine. Let's go."

Sheppard nodded once as he bent down and snagged McKay's pack off the ground, Ronon had sawed through the straps of that as well in his haste to relieve McKay of whatever was ailing him. McKay made a grab for it, "Hey, that's mine!"

"It's mine now. If you can't be responsible for your own personal health and wellbeing then I'll do that until I can drop you off with Beckett. He's going to have a field day with you on this one."

McKay huffed a few times but he realized when an argument was futile. Sheppard grabbed the sleeve on his good arm and prodded him forward as the team headed back toward Atlantis and the wrath of one mighty P.O.'ed Scottish physician McKay knew to expect upon their return.

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	4. This Sucks

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**Wing Men**

Chapter 4 – This Sucks

As Rodney arrived in the gate room a flurry of activity was already in the works around him. Teyla was shouting for a medical team for the still unconscious Collins. Ronon was standing in front of the gate with the man in his arms as the medical team raced up and prompted him to lay the man on the gurney they had brought.

McKay thought he'd sneak off while everyone was still distracted, the thought of encountering Beckett wasn't at the top of his list of things he'd like to do. Before he'd gotten two steps toward the hallway that would allow him to escape to the depths of his lab Sheppard was at his side and steering him in the direction that the medical team had rushed off in with their charge, "Forgetting something Mckay? You're off to the infirmary too. I figured I give you the option of retaining your dignity and walking down there on your own. If you'd rather keep arguing though I can just call Carson up here."

"Fine, fine. May as well get this inquisition started," he huffed quietly. He was not looking forward to the conversation that awaited him when he got down there.

The rest of the trip went on in silence. Sheppard had dismissed Teyla and Ronon to go take a break. He'd told them he'd update them on Collins when he found out more. Rodney was acting so out of character. He was usually ready to put in a request to skip the obligatory department head meetings when he got a splinter. Now all of a sudden he had decided to keep a serious injury to himself. Truth be told he wanted to know what was going on and if anyone could badger the man into speaking his mind it was Carson. The man was relentless when it came to all of their health and he wouldn't let McKay win with the avoidance game.

As they walked into the infirmary they saw Carson walk out of a curtained off cubicle and quickly walk over to the supply closet. Sheppard and McKay walked up to the door to the closet. Sheppard threw a sideways glance at his teammate only to see him looking anywhere but at either Sheppard or Carson as he absentmindedly began rubbing at his injured arm again.

Carson spent another few seconds rifling through some full IV bags, pausing periodically to squint and read the tiny print on the labels. Sheppard finally figured he'd alert the man to their presence and knocked on the door. Carson's hands stopped pawing through the box as he turned to look at the pair.

"Oh, John. What can I do for ye? If ye came down to check on Collins he'll be fine. We're gettin' him started on some fluids but the lad'll be fine."

Sheppard dipped his head into a grateful nod, he was glad to know that one his marines was going to be ok. "We actually came down to see you. Rodney was hoping you'd look at his shoulder for him. Says it's been bothering him a bit."

Rodney was finally paying attention as Carson's eyes narrowed and began analyzing his appearance. McKay made an attempt to stand up a bit straighter and let his arm fall down to his side instead of holding it up against his chest but he didn't get too far before his shoulder let him know that it wasn't in the mood to be moved about like that.

"It's just sore; I've been working with some heavier equipment. Sheppard here is freaking out about nothing."

Carson's brow scrunched. It was normal for Rodney to play up an injury and for the Colonel to tell him to suck it up; he couldn't recall the reverse situation ever having occurred. Well, he'd get to the bottom of it. "Aye, we'll let me be the judge of that," he said, ushering the pair of friends into one of the cubicles and drawing the curtain closed around them.

"Alright lads, what seems to be the problem?"

McKay didn't move forward toward the exam bed that Carson had rolled up his trademark stool to. "I would say Sheppard's attitude."

Sheppard crossed his arms, "And I would say Mckay's nonchalance about having gone on an away mission through the gate with a serious injury."

Beckett frowned at this. Sheppard wasn't one to exaggerate an injury. If he thought it was bad, it probably was. "Alright Rodney, up here with ye," he said, patting the exam bed. "Let's look at this bum shoulder of yers."

McKay let out a huff but moved forward and complied, sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed. Beckett put on a pair of exam gloves and stood up to get a better look at the joint. The jacket was getting in the way though, he needed to get that off if he was going to do a proper exam of the shoulder. "Ye'll have to take yer jacket off Rodney; I can't see anything with that on."

Rodney mumbled something under his breath and unzipped the jacket. With a good amount of wiggling he was able to get his left arm out of its sleeve and then he paused. Sheppard raised an eyebrow questioningly. Rodney cast his gaze at the ground, "Carson, could you, um, help me? I don't think I can get it off my other arm," he muttered quietly. It was better that than try to do it himself just to prove he could. He'd be in a world of pain after a failed attempt and he was already in the infirmary, there'd be no getting out of this anyway.

Beckett was attentive enough to notice that McKay wasn't keen on having had to ask for help and he didn't comment. But it did spike his fear that this might be bad. If McKay couldn't maneuver out of a jacket then it certainly wasn't ok like he had tried to claim, "Aye, let me get a feel on the joint before I go jostling it though. I don't want to further stress the injury."He slid a hand beneath the jacket and toward McKay's back as he gently pressed against a few different spots around the shoulder. He didn't miss McKay flinch when he began his administrations or his patient's sharply inhaled breath. Ach, the joint was grossly swollen.

"Rodney, yer shoulder's badly swollen. I don't want to try to take yer jacket or ye shirt off, there'd be too much strain on the joint and I don't want to be movin' it about until I can get a proper exam and a scan of it. I'm going to have to cut them off."

"Can't we try at least? This has my Canadian flag on it! Shirts are replaceable, but this is the only piece of clothing I have that is personalized with something from home…"

Carson shook his head as he pulled a pair of scissors from a drawer and turned back around, "I'm afraid that won't do lad. This shoulder doesn't look good."

Beckett threw a glance over at Sheppard who was still standing completely rigid. His hands were curled into fists, the man was obviously furious with Rodney for hiding this. Hell, he was angry as well. But he knew enough to assess his patient, alleviate the pain, and then berate him for his stupidity when he knew the extent of the damage and Rodney had been settled. It wasn't fair to yell at a patient in pain, even if that was really what he wanted to do right about now. That or knock some sense into the man, Hippocratic Oath be damned. This looked serious.

Sheppard took a deep breath though and uncurled his fists; perhaps the man had more patience than Beckett gave him credit for. It looked like he was willing to put the scientist's throttling on the backburner for a bit at least, "Let him do it McKay. I'll take your patch off the jacket and make sure we get it on a new one for you. That one's getting a bit rough around the edges anyways."

McKay mulled it over for a moment and nodded. Beckett went to work splitting the jacket and shirt all the way down the back before gently peeling them off. He let out a silent wince as he saw Mckay's back. There was a solid stripe of purple and green bruising down the shoulder blade. He walked back around to Rodney's front.

"Rodney, this shoulder's been dislocated recently although it seems to be aligned alright now. And this bruising is in a very irregular pattern. What happened lad?"

"I don't want the surgery Carson. I know that's what you're thinking."

"Rodney, I don't even know what ye did to it yet. Let's get a solid look at what we're dealing with before we make any decisions."

"I'm not having the surgery," he said, looking Carson in the eyes. When Carson didn't make the expected rebuttal McKay finally relented, "I went over a railing yesterday and caught myself by grabbing the railing with my right hand. I stopped, but the force jerked my arm out."

"Aye, that'd do it. And how'd it get back in place? Did it slide back into place with ye playing with it?"

McKay tapped his fingers on the bed railing; he knew that neither of them was going to be happy about this bit, "I programmed the doors to close on it."

Carson's chin stuck out at this and he whispered in a very low voice, "Ye…closed a door on it. Instead of coming down here to let me do it properly ye slammed a door on it," he spoke, his voice gaining in volume. He could only take so much of McKay's idiocy in one go, "Are ye daft man! Ye have any idea what ye may have done to this arm?"

"It…it was numb all the way down the arm. I just wanted to fix it," he rebutted weakly.

Carson went a bit rigid at this; there shouldn't have been prolonged numbness with a typical dislocation. He held out his hand to where Rodney's hand was still rested across his chest. "I want ye to grab my hand as strongly as ye can."

McKay looked at him a little skeptically, "What sort of test is this?"

Sheppard jumped in, "McKay, Beckett's trying to fix your arm. The least you could is make the man's job a bit easier."

Rodney didn't reply, just held out his hand and commanded it to close around Carson's. Beckett looked at him a bit quizzically, "Ye ready to give it a shot Rodney?"

"…I am."

Carson looked down at Rodney's hand which was just barely closed into a partial fist; there was no strength at all in the grip. That wasn't a good sign. He let Mckay's hand go and gave him a pat on the leg before running a hand through his hair.

"Alright lad, I'm going to send a nurse in to give ye a painkiller while I go prepare the scanner," he said, standing up and moving toward the closed curtain. "Colonel, why don't ye come with me and tell me what happened off world?"

Sheppard nodded and moved to follow him, McKay watching them leave. Beckett led the way to the other side of the infirmary where he activated the Ancient scanner, the machine making a low whirring noise as it started to warm up. Sheppard let him key in a few sequences on the keyboard before speaking, "You saw something you didn't like in there but you didn't tell McKay. What is it?"

Carson took a deep breath and looked at him, "When he grabbed my hand, it was so weak. He could hardly move the hand. That means there are nerves involved. I am going to have Jenna sedate him and I am going to run a few more tests. They'll take awhile and I doubt McKay would be able to sit still that long."

Sheppard's frown deepened at this, "Is it permanent?"

Carson shook his head, "I don't even know what it is yet. That's what the additional tests are for."

"Why didn't you tell McKay this?"

"How would ye feel if I told ye that I think there may be nerve damage? It's never good news Colonel. Best case scenario he will need a surgery and a lengthy recovery. He's not likely to want to that again."

"Again?"

"Aye, back on earth, when I was his physician up on the Antarctic base, he got caught in an explosion that threw his shoulder out then too. He was recovering ok, but I was maybe a bit cautious with his treatment and we moved slow on the physical therapy. He got something called a 'frozen shoulder' about three weeks into his recovery. The shoulder remains immobile too long…I won't get into the mechanics, but the fix for it was sedating him, manually manipulating the shoulder to break up the scar tissue and starting his recovery over from scratch. It doubled the length of time he would've normally been off duty. Suffice to say I suspect that's why he didn't come down here with that injury. He thought it was bad being off for six weeks back on earth. Now we're in Atlantis, there's so much more to keep his attention, he's not going to want to take the time off that this injury will probably require."

Sheppard creased his brow at this, "What was the surgery McKay was talking about?"

"He should've had it back after the Antarctic injury; normally after two dislocations we'll do a surgery to tighten the ligaments around the joint to stabilize it so it doesn't happen again. Likely him refusing that surgery is what has him in here now. He'd be more prone to re-dislocation without it."

"Oh…"

"Aye. The lad's not thrilled at the prospect of another lengthy recovery. I can tell ye that's what he's heading for if there are nerves involved."

Sheppard leaned back against a column, "So what happens now?"

"I run my tests, ye go back to work and we'll make a treatment plan."

Sheppard pushed back off the column, "This sucks. A lot."

Carson smiled a bit, the colonel did have a way with bluntness, "Aye, now off with ye. I need to send a nurse in to get Rodney prepped. I'll let ye come back and visit later on."

Sheppard nodded and turned to go but paused midstride to turn around to Carson for one last word, "Thanks Carson. I know we don't say that enough and I certainly know McKay enjoys making you out to be a prison warden. But you keep putting us together no matter how broken we come in. So I'm saying thanks for this, for everything, McKay may not say it but I can and I will."

A genuine smile creased the doctor's lips. "Aye, the lot of ye need to be locked up in a padded room where even ye couldn't figure out a way to injure yourself. Now step frettin' and off with ye!"

Sheppard let out a soft chuckle and turned to go update the rest of his teammates on Rodney's status.

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	5. Liabilities

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**Wing Men**

Chapter 5 – Liabilities

Sheppard had gone and updated his team and now found himself mindlessly wandering back to infirmary. He strolled in past the rows of beds in the main infirmary area, briefly stopping by Collin's bed to get an update from a nurse who was changing his IV. Spotting Carson wandering out of his office carrying his tablet he quickly darted after the man, trailing him in silence back to a cubicle with the curtain drawn shut around it.

As Beckett disappeared behind them Sheppard followed him, "Well? What have you found?"

Beckett's head snapped up from whatever had been keeping him so engrossed on his tablet, "Oh, colonel. Give me another moment or two and I'll be able to tell ye," he said, putting his tablet aside as he moved up to the bed where Rodney was currently out cold, stripped to the waist.

"Yikes! What are you doing here? You have Rodney dressed up like a cross between a porcupine and a Christmas tree," Sheppard interjected, eyes widening at the dozens of short needles that were stuck into his friend's injured appendage, a wire attached to the end of each one. His eyes followed the wires down to where they gathered into a thick coil, eventually connecting to some sort of machine that had a digitalized image of an arm on it.

"Ach, I know it looks bad lad, but we aren't torturing the lad. Ye can see why I put him out though. The poor lad would have a panic fit if he saw himself trussed up like this. It's a new diagnostic tool I've been toying with, an Ancient design. McKay's blue shirts actually brought it down to me, found it in an older lab."

"Uh…knowing our track record of untested Ancient technology and the colossal disasters they seem to generate are you sure it's such a hot idea to be using McKay as a guinea pig?" Sheppard asked, a tinge of concern in his voice.

"It's perfectly safe colonel, I've been using it for a few weeks with my patients now with no problems," he said as he fiddled with a few of the needles and wires and then turned his attention to the screen of the machine they were attached to.

"What are all the needles for?"

"We use them for nerve mapping. We send a very low grade electrical current through each one and this machine is capable of seeing which nerves conduct the charge. Think of yer nerves like a huge web that run throughout yer body, all interconnected. The current gets passed through each one, the signal gradually getting weaker as the signal travels a further distance."

"So how will that help you with McKay's case?"

"I'll show ye," he said, pressing a button on the machine's console. There was a low grade humming from the machine and then it cut out suddenly. Sheppard watched McKay, there was no sign of distress on the man's face but his arm did twitch as the muscles contracted.

Beckett was engrossed in the data displayed on the screen. Sheppard didn't quite know what he was seeing, but he could see the faint shape of an arm and shoulder. Overlaid on that was a web-looking something or other in varying shades of blue.

Carson scrunched his eyebrows and tapped a few buttons on the keyboard, prompting the screen to zoom into an area around the shoulder joint, "See this," he asked, tapping one sector of the screen.

"The jumble of colors?"

"Aye, here," he said, tapping the area on the screen again.

"I see that the web-looking thing is red instead of blue like everything else? That what we're talking about here?"

"Aye, that's a bundle of nerves that didn't react like they should've to that electrical impulse. Probably caused by Rodney not manipulating his shoulder into the joint correctly. Using a damnable door the dolt. Could he have gotten any more medieval?"

"So there is nerve damage? Are we talking permanent here?"

"Ach, I'm going to have to manually dislocate the shoulder, then go in surgically and move the bundle of nerves so they won't be caught when I put the shoulder back into place again. It's pinched in the joint right now"

"That doesn't sound fun…"

"Aye, it won't be for Rodney. I'll have to discuss it with him when I wake him up. I'll be doing that now that I'm sure that we are looking at nerve involvement."

"So when will you do the surgery?"

"Assuming McKay gives his permission for us to go ahead with it? I would do it immediately. The longer we wait the larger the chance that the nerve will retain some permanent damage."

"What do you mean assuming Mckay gives the go ahead? That doesn't normally stop you…you're always going on about how you have the needles and your judgment supersedes anyone else's in medical situations."

"That's in life-threatening situations. Rodney would still recover some function in the arm without this surgery; I won't force it on him."

"You've never let McKay's stubbornness get in your way before."

Carson's expression dipped a bit, "I'm the one that screwed this up last time he was in for that shoulder. He had an addition three weeks of recovery, of pain, of frustration, because of a mistake I made. I'll not be forcing that sort of decision on him again; McKay has every right to not trust me with this. It's the lad's decision."

Sheppard gave Carson a quizzical look, "Can he go through the gate without the surgery assuming he lets it recover."

Beckett sat down on his stool and shook his head, "No, he'd be a medical liability. He'd be restricted to base-only status if he doesn't go through with this surgery."

"Then he'll have the surgery," Sheppard said confidently.

"Colonel, I know ye guys are close, but this is Rodney's decision and he seemed pretty set against any surgical involvement…"

"Beckett, just wake him up, lay out the options for him. If he says no, I'll talk to him. He'll come around."

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Sheppard stalked into McKay's lab where he knew he would find the man, "Beckett tells me you refused the surgery and signed yourself out of his care against medical advice. He says you shouldn't even be off the pain meds yet."

Rodney gaped at him for a moment, not used to his friend barging in like this and immediately taking off on a tirade. Usually they got a few minutes of casual talking in before Sheppard dove into the real reason behind such late night visits when something was bothering him. He finished looking at Sheppard and went back to typing on his computer with his one available hand, "Beckett did his job, he checked out my shoulder, gave me the facts, and I made the decision that I thought was best."

"Want to tell me how choosing the option that will condemn you to never being allowed to go through the gate is best for anyone?" Sheppard snarled, "Did your common sense decide to take a vacation in the past few days? First, you get an injury, which I suspect happened yesterday when you called me up and then made up that stupid excuse about getting almost locked in the lab. Then, instead of seeking treatment, you decide to take care of it yourself, which may I add, is what put you in the position of needing this surgery. You lie to _me _about being ok to go through the gate, and it takes you being in mortal agony and screaming before you admit you're hurt. And then, then, no, that's not enough. After Carson has made a plan to undo this whole latest fuck-up of yours, you tell him that you don't want any of it. Did I miss anything?"

McKay continued typing, perhaps believing that if he kept himself engrossed in something else then he wouldn't have to fully participate in this discussion, "It doesn't matter what I did. The results would've been the same; I am not having the surgery. John, my answer is no. I've been through a recovery that was half of what Beckett is proposing now, and it sucked. I was in pain, I couldn't work, I laid there and did nothing," he finally stopped typing and looked up from the screen, "Do you know what it's like to feel useless?"

Sheppard's voice softened a bit, "Yeah, McKay, I do. Every time you are pulling a genius idea out of that brilliant mind of yours when we're in a crisis. My job to stand there and shoot at anything that might pose a threat to you. I don't know what you're doing or how you're doing it. All I know is that you can do it and all I am capable of doing is to watch and make sure to keep you safe while you save us. Who am I supposed to put that faith in if you're permanently grounded? Who am I supposed to trust if we're off world in need of your brains and you're stuck here in your lab?"

"I'll get better…I did before. My arm was one hundred percent after a lengthy recovery back on earth. I'm just gonna stick around the city for awhile, work on the backlog of projects I have sitting around, and in a few weeks it'll be fine," he said, again returning his attention to the latest schematics the scientists had sent to him for power output for the city.

"McKay! You are not listening. Beckett's saying nerve involvement. You don't spontaneously recover from that, you get permanent damage!"

"My answer's no Sheppard. I'm sorry if that doesn't sit well with you." McKay said, still not even bothering to look up from his report.

"Fuck it all Rodney! You are so obstinate. No, it doesn't sit well with me! And it's not going to."Fed up with his friend ignoring this very important conversation he was around Rodney's desk in three long strides and slammed the lid on the laptop. "Feel like listening to me now, maybe?"

"Sheppard! What is your problem?" McKay shouted this time.

Rodney tried to pry the laptop back open but the colonel pressed his weight down on the hand that was still on the lid, blocking McKay's attempt. "My problem is a teammate of mine is making a stupid decision and won't listen to reason."

"I'm not having the surgery Sheppard," Rodney hissed venomously, "I'll be fine without it."

"Ok, let's speak hypothetically. Let's assume that you don't have the surgery, and get permanently grounded. You think the city is any place for a gimp? You think the city's even _safe _for a permanently handicapped person?"

"Sheppard, even assuming I don't get back to top form, I am well capable of protecting myself. I've done fine in all of the conflicts we've made it through, including Genii and wraith invasions. I'll be fine."

"Ok, let's play pretend for a moment," Sheppard interjected, hauling McKay to his feet and pulling him away from the chair he had been occupying. He unbuckled his friend's sling and watched it fall to the ground.

McKay opened his mouth to protest but John cut him off, "This is you in top form assuming that Beckett is right. He says you'll hardly recover any strength in that arm. I'll be the enemy soldier. Defend yourself Rodney," he said, lightly shoving the man backward. "What do you do in this situation?"

"John! This is not funny! I'm in pain here and you're playing games and roughing me up! Wait till Beckett hears about this."

"You think an enemy soldier or a starving wraith is going to listen to your banter? You're right, we do get invasions and we'll probably get more attempted ones in the future. You need to be able to defend yourself. I need to be able to trust that you can look after yourself if I can't be there."

"I never fight hand to hand! That's what a gun's for."

"Fine, have a gun Rodney," Sheppard said, sliding his down along the desk to rest right next to Rodney. Rodney narrowed his eyes but moved his left hand to pick it up and return it to Sheppard and tell him to stop screwing around.

Before his hand had closed on the handle Sheppard was behind him, pinning that arm behind his back tightly, "Now I've got you partially restrained. How do you defend yourself? A Genii is trying to take you prisoner again, a wraith is preparing to feed on you," he whispered in Rodney's ear even as the man struggled to free himself.

Sheppard was careful to move with Rodney as he struggled and keep the grip on his arm just loose enough that he didn't jostle his injured shoulder. He heard Rodney wince as the scientist slowly moved his right hand down toward the gun. He managed to get the gun off the table before he let out a pained hiss of air and the gun clattered back to the table.

Sheppard immediately released Rodney and backed off, bending over to pick up the sling as Rodney collapsed back into his chair, cradling his injured arm against his chest in a pose that Sheppard had seen far too much of in the past few days. He flinched as Sheppard came up toward him.

"Easy, I'm done. Here's your sling," he said, holding it out. Rodney didn't say anything but allowed John to help him get his arm re-secured in the sling. Having finished that, Sheppard retrieved a rolling chair from another desk and pulled it up next to Rodney.

Rodney just sat there for a moment or two, flexing his fingers as best he could which wasn't very far. He still couldn't make a fist. His grip had been too weak to even get a gun off the table and into a firing position, "…I'm a liability like this, aren't I?"

"If you stay like this, if you don't have the surgery? Yeah. I'd worry about you every time you were out alone," Sheppard said softly.

"Last time…the recovery was so long. It hurt. And Beckett…he said that we probably didn't move rigorously enough with the physical therapy and then I had to start over. This sounds a lot more complicated than that. He's talking this surgery now to fix the nerve, and then once the swelling goes down in a few weeks or so, he wants to do the surgery to tighten the ligaments. That's a lot of surgery; it's a long recovery time."

"McKay, we've all been through this process, we get hurt, Beckett fixes us up, makes us take some time off, and then we go back through the gate. That's life in the Pegasus galaxy."

"It's going to be a _long _recovery. Not days, even weeks. He's talking months until I can go through the gate again or work without restriction. How am I supposed to do that?" McKay asked, looking up to meet Sheppard's gaze.

"You aren't expected to. That's what teammates, friends are for. You won't be alone in this McKay."

"You guys would help me?" McKay asked, still flexing his fingers weakly.

"McKay, that's a given. That's what friends do for one another; we take care of each other."

"…Ok. I'll do it."

Sheppard said a silent thank you, "Ok. Let's go see Beckett."

"Right now? Can't we wait at least till morning? I just got out of there two hours ago. It'd be nice to have one night more of freedom before I surrender to the Scot's grasp for god knows how long."

Sheppard shook his head, "Beckett said time was a factor. The sooner the better. Tell you what bud," he said, lowering his hand to help haul McKay up from his chair to a standing position, "We'll do a quick trip to the mess. I surveyed the food earlier; they have what looks like cookies made with real chocolate. Or at the very least a very convincing substitute. We can at least get some real grub in you before you go back to infirmary food. I won't tell Beckett about the detour if you won't," he said with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Alright, I suppose that's the best I am going to get," McKay said, taking Sheppard's hand and climbing to his feet, "And coffee. I want a cup or two of that too. Beckett is always clamoring that my caffeine intake is too high."

"Ok McKay, and a cup of coffee too," he added.

"Just out of curiosity, was gun loaded when you gave it to me?"

"McKay," Sheppard said as the pair left the lab, "I wouldn't trust you to hit a barn from ten feet with any gun, let alone trust you to point the thing at me without somehow maiming me. Of course not, it was empty."

"Hey! I object to you thinking I can't shoot, I went through the training for it just like everyone else."

"Yeah, and you almost shot your instructor's head off."

"He didn't tell me it was loaded! I was just trying to look at the inner mechanisms of it and it went off, it wasn't my fault!"

"Rodney, I'll leave the electronic gizmos to you; you leave the shooting to me. We'll hopefully both stay alive that way."

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	6. The Waiting Game

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**Wing Men**

Chapter 6 – The Waiting Game

Sheppard leaned back in the plastic chair and tapped his head lightly against the wall. What on earth was taking Carson so long? He'd brought McKay back to the infirmary after their trip to the mess. His friend had been a little disappointed by the coffee, this late at night the cooks had closed up shop already and left the remaining food out to sit for any late-night snackers. That meant the last batch of coffee was all McKay would get, and it meant cold coffee on this particular night. Guessing when the mess would close down for the night wasn't an exact science, sometimes he swore the cooks kept an irregular schedule just to keep everyone confused.

They'd made it back to the infirmary just in time. Carson had already shed his trademark white jacket, made his final round to check on all of his patients, and was about to leave for the night just as they walked in. Beckett had been relieved to see that Sheppard had been able to get the McKay to listen to him, although Sheppard had left out the bit about the rough-handling he'd subjected Rodney to. McKay was right about that, Beckett would've blown a gasket at hearing about it.

Beckett had scrubbed the exhaustion off his face, put his jacket back on, and put in calls to his two favorite surgical nurses. They were technically off-duty, but with a surgery this precise he wanted to start with all of the advantages he could. While the nurses were rousing themselves from their quarters Beckett had instructed a pair of the night staff nurses to prepare the surgery room. While his support staff was taking care of that, he'd taken care of Rodney himself, giving him a pair of scrubs, taking one final scan to make sure everything was in order, getting an IV going. He finished with explaining the details of the procedure; Sheppard saw that Rodney appreciated that bit. McKay was detail-oriented in his normal habits, with something this personal; he'd sat up a bit straighter, abandoned the normal snark, and paid careful attention to Beckett's explanation. Sheppard could see that Rodney wanted to know what was going to happen while he was out and what to expect after the fact.

John had tried to stay out of the way while all of this was occurring, content to stand off in a corner of the room and observe. It was odd to see events unfold like this. It was slow, there was time to explain what was going on, there as time to consider the repercussions of this surgery and make plans for after the fact. Normally when Beckett was involved a life was teetering dangerously close to death. They would come through the gate broken, bleeding, howling in pain or unconscious altogether and there would be the mad dash to the infirmary and often to surgery after that. This seemed so much more laid-back in comparison. Yes, they were looking at a long recovery time, but Sheppard wasn't sitting there worrying that his friend would bleed out and die before he heard his voice again.

John knew Rodney would be coming out ok, this was a technical but routine surgery, and he had already started making plans for afterwards to make things easier for Rodney. He'd radioed Zelenka and let him know he'd be filling in while Rodney was away; he'd also radioed Ronon and Teyla and let them know that Rodney had gone along with the surgery. At Beckett's request he'd told his teammates to stop by in the morning, Beckett said one visitor was all he was going to allow in to see Rodney tonight and Sheppard had already claimed that privilege.

Which was what had him sitting in the corner of the infirmary that Carson had designated as the pseudo waiting area. He threw a quick glance at his watch to see that it was now edging on two-thirty in the morning. They had taken an unconscious McKay into surgery three hours ago. Sheppard prided himself on his patience but he'd run out of things to keep him busy about an hour ago. He closed his eyes for just the briefest of moments, it was late, it'd been a long day…

Something was tapping gently on his shoulder, "Colonel, ye got a bit more energy in ye to step in and visit a friend?"

Sheppard jolted upward and reached down toward his now-empty holster, a long-trained reflex to an unexpected awakening. He slowed his jerky movements and sat up with a yawn before snapping to full attention, focusing on the hazy Scottish physician that was coming into focus, "Yeah, yeah. I'm up," he scrubbed at his face with one hand before flipping it over for a quick inspection; it was four in the morning. Damn, he must have fallen asleep for a little while there. That explained the kink in his back then. Sleeping upright in an uncomfortable chair would do that. "How's Rodney? Everything go ok?" he inquired anxiously.

Carson gave a slight tip of his head forward, "Aye, took a bit longer than I expected, but we brought him out of surgery about thirty minutes ago. We did another nerve conduction test and it looks like everything is where it should be."

Sheppard frowned slightly at this, "I thought you were going to update me as soon as you got out…"

Beckett smiled, "But ye just looked so cute there, even had a bit of a snore that broke up the silence in here so nicely, I didn't have the heart to wake ye. The night nurses said it gave them a wee bit of entertainment in an otherwise quiet shift," he said, nodding over toward the giggling nurses at their station. "We used the time to do that test and then get him settled in one of the private rooms."

Sheppard stood up and cracked his back, "I can visit him tonight then still, right?"

"Aye, I did promise. Although it's closer to morning now," Carson said wearily. The man looked it too, there were purple crescents under both eyes, a testament to the effort he'd put in for their friend. Sheppard was tired just sitting here; he couldn't imagine having to be completely alert for that whole period of time and working in such a delicate manner. Sometimes it did seem as if the Scottish physician had some hidden reserve of energy that he could tap during nights like these, he didn't seem to need to resort to the caffeine binging that the rest of the base relied on to achieve the same effect. Or maybe it was just a stubborn determination to see everything right, to make sure his charges were safe, on their way to recovery, and settled before allowing himself the same privilege.

Carson led the way past a series of beds, most empty, a few housing drowsing patients, before they finally entered one of the rooms closest to Beckett's office. He did always have a way of wanting to keep his friends close.

Rodney was unconscious in the partially reclined bed. There were a few pillows arranged behind and around his injured shoulder for support and several bags of ice obscuring the joint from view. The obligatory sensors, monitors, and IV's stood to either side of his bed. Sheppard just stood at the entrance for a few moments while Beckett busied himself with observing the readouts on the various monitors. Sheppard was content to merely watch the man breath in and out. He saw Rodney's facial expression shift for a moment, scrunching up to something that resembled a wince although it wasn't accompanied by any audible sound, "He can't feel anything, right? I'd imagine going in like that had to put him in some pain."

Carson turned back to Sheppard, "Of course we'd not let him suffer. He's doped up on the best stuff we have and will be for the next few days at least. Ye know I am a strong believer that rest is one of the best cures for an ailing body."

Sheppard nodded. Couldn't argue there. Beckett liked to keep them off duty for too long in Sheppard's opinion. They were always itching to go back to work and Carson would keep them off the roster for a few days past that point without fail. "When will he wake up?"

Carson shrugged a bit, "Normally with this dosage, I'd say not before noon. Another eight hours at least before we'll start looking for some regaining of consciousness. But then Rodney's not normal now is he? We'll have someone checking in every fifteen minutes on the lad to make sure everything's ok."

"Can I stay for awhile? You should go curl up for some sleep doc; it's been a long night for you."

Carson smiled again, "Aye, I've got a cot in my office with my name on it. As for ye, I figured ye'd want to stay, this bed's for ye to sleep in," he said, patting the empty bed next to Rodney's that had been fitted with sheets, pillow, and a folded up blanket at the end. "Yer little cat nap in one of my chairs out there suggests that some sleep is in order for ye too."

Sheppard nodded, "You know us too well doc. But a cot for you? I think you've probably earned a few hours outside of your infirmary at least. Can't your staff watch over Rodney until you can get some shut eye?"

"Ach, of course I trust my staff. But it's Rodney, he's not just another patient, he's my friend too. I'd like to be close too in case anything happens. I'll sleep easier down here than up in my room. I'd only be running down here in a few hours to check on the lad anyways. At least this way it's a shorter walk."

"Never let anyone say you don't work overtime Carson, I swear you never actually go off duty. I think I'm going to catch a few Z's then," Sheppard said, hopping up onto the bed and pulling his boots off one by one and letting them drop to the ground.

He laid back against the pillow, folding his hands behind his head, "Do the same doc, you look how I feel, bone weary."

Carson checked Rodney's pulse once more with a light grip on the underside of his wrist and nodded, "Aye, true words. Ye come get me if anything's amiss, no matter how small."

As Sheppard nodded in understanding Carson withdrew, quietly shutting the door to the room behind him. Sheppard turned on his side, eyes half open for a time, content to let the rising and falling motion of Rodney's chest occupy his attention until he too drifted off.

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	7. On Ice

**Author's Note** – Well all, here's the next chapter. Updates are going to be a bit slower for awhile now, I'm in the process of writing about 70k words worth of fics for various SGA exchanges and competitions. Unfortunately I cannot post those as I go, so it's going to be slower for a few months and then a lot all at once. This is my side project that I will continue to post as I write; the others are all different stories. Lots of people seem to be checking out and subscribing to this story and that's awesome, I hope everyone is enjoying it! And reviews are awesome if you guys have any thoughts and I really do appreciate them! Please feel free to leave a comment with any ideas or comments, I try to respond to all of them and they really do keep me motivated to churn out updates. Anyways, another chapter, as promised. I hope you guys like it!

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**Wing Men**

Chapter 7 – On Ice

Cold. He was cold and it was dark. That was the first thing he was aware of. His entire left side was numb and cold. And where were the lights? And where was he for the matter? Wait, opening his eyes could help, he thought. Why was he so stupid all of a sudden?

Rodney drowsily summoned the energy to open his eyes the tiniest of bits knowing the transition from total darkness to brightness wouldn't be a friendly one. It never was. He was partially reclined on a bed, there was a rhythmic beeping off to one side and a light blanket was draped over the lower part of his body. The beeping meant a heart monitor; it meant he was in Carson's clutches in the infirmary. What had happened?

He went to stretch stiff muscles in his back and let out a weak groan as he did so, he apparently had been here for awhile if his body was protesting this much with such a slight motion. There was a shuffling to the side of him, he turned his head. Sheppard was watching him intently, having abandoned the open book in his lap, "McKay, you awake?"

Rodney looked around a bit drunkenly, everything seemed off, the room hadn't stopped rocking yet and his mouth couldn't seem to form the words and keep up with his thoughts. Drugs. He felt drugged. Something must have happened, "…I think…"

Sheppard leaned forward, putting a hand on the railing. "Good. That's good. How are you feeling?"

Rodney blinked a few times, trying to register the question and formulate an answer. He didn't know why he was here, nothing hurt too much. The only thing that was bothering him was the numbness on the right side. He turned his head to see what could be causing that. There was a sense of confusion at the fact that he couldn't see his right shoulder. Where was it?

"My shoulder…"

Sheppard's gaze immediately honed in on the joint, "Is it hurting you? I can get Beckett," he said with a sense of urgency as he began to rise from his chair.

"No…it's ok. Where is it?"

Sheppard looked confused at this too, "What do you mean buddy?"

"I can't see it…"

"It's right where you left it, everything's still attached. Beckett said everything went ok with the surgery."

Surgery…he'd had surgery? God, he didn't like pain, but he hated being drugged even worse. Everyone had that something that made them special, the thing that qualified them to be here studying this amazing city in another galaxy. Sheppard had his bravery, his loyalty and ability to unite and inspire the men under his command. McKay had his brain, his intelligence and the ability to string together a series of seemingly unrelated concepts and make them sing. But this…this was wrong. He was having trouble formulating whole sentences. "Uh…sorry. I'm a bit off, drugs I think? What happened?"

Sheppard slowly sat back down, "Oh, yeah. Sorry, drugs make thinking a lot harder. I've had that experience. Bates tried to get some info from me one time on the specs on that village we visited the one time where I got shot. He told me afterward the only coherent bit I'd said was about them making a mean dinner roll…"

His voice dipped off at the end as he realized that McKay's gaze seemed to be wandering around at random, "Sorry, you were asking about the surgery, not for a story of my personal exploits. You dislocated your shoulder; a nerve got pinched when you put it back in. Beckett went in and fixed it."

Rodney seemed to be focusing a bit better, the drugged feeling seemed to be waning a bit, "Oh…yeah. Everything's ok with it now?"

Sheppard nodded, "Beckett said everything went according to plan. You've been sleeping it off for several hours."

Rodney raised his left hand from on top of the blanket where it'd been sitting and tried to reach up toward the shoulder only to be stopped by the tugging of something on the back of his hand. An IV, of course, he should've thought of that, he scolded himself. Maybe he was still a bit slow, the drugs still. He put the hand back down, "Can you take the ice off? It's all numb…"

"Carson put that on as soon as you came out of surgery and they've been in to change it a few times as it's melted. He said you need it to keep the swelling down."

"I've done this before, not my first dislocation. It's ok," Rodney prodded. He needed to know that he could feel it; right now it was just dead weight. He could feel the weight of the arm on his chest in its sling, but that was it. There was no pain, not even the hint of pain that always seemed to peek through the drugs. He needed to know that everything was ok, that the nerves were ok. This was his arm; it wasn't something he could just replace like a spare part for the machines he worked on if something had gone with the surgery.

"Rodney, I don't think so…"

"Sheppard, I just want to feel something…anything in the arm. That's all," he argued weakly.

Perhaps it was the desperation in his friend's voice that won him over, but Sheppard relented with a disapproving sigh as he started removing the bags of ice one at a time and setting them on the table next to the bed.

There was silence for a few minutes, Sheppard just watching as Rodney closed his eyes and focused on his injured limb, searching for any hint of a return of feeling. It had to just be the ice or the drugs making it numb, it _had _to be. What would he do with just one arm? And his left one would be the one he'd be left with no less, trust fate to give him a hard time, he was right handed on a normal day. His eyes snapped open as he felt the first bit of tingling in the arm and he let out a silent thank you. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He turned his attention back to Sheppard, "You been here all night?"

John smiled weakly, "I took a break for breakfast. Teyla and Ronon stayed with you for an hour or so while I did that. I stopped by the control room to trade my training shifts for some of the new troops with another commander so I could be here for the day."

A small smile crept over McKay's face, "You are such a stalker. You don't need to stay here all day. I'll be bored enough on my own, no need for you to suffer through that too."

Sheppard shrugged, "I don't have to, I want to."

Rodney nodded in appreciation; the smallest things really did make a difference, "What time is it?"

John threw a quick glance at his watch, "About one in the afternoon. Should've woken up a bit earlier, I could've gotten you some food. The nurses came through with lunch for everyone."

"Not really all too hungry at the moment, painkillers and nausea seemed to come in a neat pair."

"Carson said to try to get something in you after you woke up," he said, grabbing something off the table next to the bed that McKay couldn't see from where he was at. He wasn't really up for shifting around too much to find out, let Sheppard bring whatever it was to him.

"Well, this was blue jello at some point. A little more liquid than gelatinous at the moment, but that shouldn't affect the taste much," he said as he produced a cup of partially melted jello, "I asked the nurses for it specifically. It wasn't on the menu and I had to trade a blind date with one of the nurse's friends to get this so you better eat it," he said in a lighthearted tone.

McKay smiled, "Like you need any encouragement to plan yourself a date. That is no burden upon you, you love flaunting your spiky hair and weapons for the ladies," but his mouth opened a bit as a small noise escaped and a muscle twitched.

Sheppard didn't miss it, "What's wrong?"

"Maybe I'm a little sore. Where's the morphine pump control?"

John looked at him with a puzzled expression.

McKay's breathing was getting a bit more rapid. The numbness was fading and quickly being replaced with a sharp pain. With an urgency in his voice he prompted again, "Small box with a button on it, it should be near my IV, I should be able to up my dosage of morphine to kill-" he cut off as another shudder ran through the shoulder, "the pain! Please…"

Sheppard was on his feet and around to the other side of the bed, looking at the IV stand, looking near the call button attached to the bed, "McKay there's nothing here…What do I do?"

He was taking huge breaths, breaths large they seemed to be in danger of cracking his ribcage, anything to stop him from letting out the cry he was stifling, he wasn't concerned about not being able to feel the arm any more. It was on fire, he wanted the numbness again, the blessed numbness to silence his screaming shoulder, "Beckett!" he rasped between breaths and immediately went back to channeling all of his effort into resisting the urge to curl up. Any movement would aggravate it; he needed to ride this out.

He looked back up and Sheppard was gone, the rapid thud of boots on the tiled floor suggesting a hasty departure. God, let him find Beckett, please. With Sheppard gone he stopped worrying about suppressing a verbal expression of his anguish, letting out weak hiccups of pain. This was way worse than before, something must have gone wrong, nothing should hurt this much!

He heard more scuttling of rapid footsteps before he blinked and there were suddenly two figures by his bed, one on either side. He focused his blurry gaze on one to his left, the figure was pulling his hand away from where it was wrapped around his injured arm. He tried to tell the figure to let go, he needed that, that grip was grounding him and they were taking it away! He tried to shake the hand off but it tightened, "Easy, Rodney. Easy lad," the figure's voice murmured in a soothing tone.

He saw the glint of a needle, then a burning racing up his good arm, and the figure let go of his hand, instead settling on his chest to keep him shifting. As if Rodney needed to be told. He'd expended all of his energy in the past few moments resisting the urge to do just that. He tried to say as much, but his mouth wasn't in the mood to cooperate.

He felt his heart beat slow, the pain fell from a thunderous roar to a dull ache and the world seemed a little fuzzy again. More drugs. He didn't care. He didn't feel the urge to scream, that was all that mattered right now. "Thanks…" he said softly. There was nothing more wonderful than drugs right now. He'd never take them for granted again.

Beckett moved around to his side and he felt the harsh sting of something cold against the skin of his injured shoulder. Carson threw a look at Sheppard, "Why's the ice on the table instead of on Rodney's shoulder?"

McKay listened to the exchange, content to soak up the welcomed fuzziness of the drugs for the moment.

Another voice spoke, "Rodney said it was ok…that he'd done it before and it was fine."

He heard Beckett mutter something under his breath before responding, "The lad has an amazing affinity for ignoring medical advice. He should've iced it the last time he injured the joint too, he chose not to."

He felt more weight being settled on his right shoulder, more sting, more ice, "He probably noticed it more this time being that we were in with the nerves. They tend to protest a good deal more when that's the case."

This time Carson moved up into Rodney's line of sight, "Rodney lad, I know ye are hurtin'. The painkiller should dull it. Ye need to listen to me this time Rodney. This is a complicated case and ye need to be following my advice on this to the letter. The ice stays, alright lad?"

Rodney, blissfully enjoying the renewed numbness, agreed, "The ice stays…"

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